


...and it all leads to you

by auspice



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Post-Canon, Recovery, Self-Harm, anyways saeran cries a lot because hes a loser and gets emotional, hi yall im trash for saeran choi and filled with emotions about him 24/7, i get emotional when i think about him, its like--been there done that, this is literally a mix of fluff humor and angst, writing actual smut is boring as hell tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8912350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auspice/pseuds/auspice
Summary: a collection of stories of saeran's convalescence, his unfortunate life and how it all leads to you.set post party, an au where mc never really got in a romantic relationship with anyone but got really close with all the rfa members, to the point where they help saeyoung rescue saeran--who struggles with the idea that he deserved to be saved after everything he's done.THIS IS UNFINISHED. i'm probably not going to finish it. at least not until saeran's route comes out so Bye





	1. datemates, and a game of uno

**Author's Note:**

> so before i begin, i'm going to say this right now; i usually do NOT edit my stories--this is partly because i'm lazy, and also because i know that if i go back to edit, i'm probably going to delete everything i've written and then just give up all together.
> 
> my apologies if i misspell anything or make continuity mistakes. lemme know if you see anything so i can go back and fix it asap.
> 
> if you have any suggestions or prompts, message me about it and i'll get back to you.
> 
> ok now that we have this out of the way, let's start this stuff with some humor (at least to the best of my ability of writing anything humorous)

he’s too nervous to call you his partner.

yes, saeran knows that he clings to you and yes, he’s kissed you a couple times too. so maybe he thought your lips were really soft and loves the smell of your hair. so maybe he likes holding your hand, when you give him little forehead kisses, when you hold him to sleep at night because it’s one of the only ways to put him to bed peacefully. so maybe he likes you a lot. too much, is what he thinks.

there’s always something that’s stopping him from admitting it. it’s something dark and cold, with nails and teeth, a shadow in the corners of his eyes.

but you never pressured him to formalize anything.

when saeran asked you, at the prompting of his brother, “do you think we’re dating?”, you smiled, weave your fingers together with his.

“it’s whatever you believe our relationship is. i don’t mind!” and then he’s suddenly reminded of why he liked you so much, and squeezes your hand tight.

so saeran doesn’t ask you anymore, and no one else does, either. yes, saeyoung still teases him, but it’s nothing he can’t play along with, nothing he can’t tolerate--they’re twins, after all. (and saeran’s heard you talking to the others on the phone before too, asking politely for patience, for them to not inquire about your relationship. saeran remembers going back to his room and finding himself crying--he doesn’t know why he cried that day, but he does remember feeling so warm inside that later, he came and hugged you without saying a single word).

love is subjective, he decides, and however he felt was however he felt. saeran didn’t need any labels, and you didn’t, either. 

and when all’s said and done, and he’s tired of thinking to himself--especially after just waking up--he crawls out from his bed. an idle glance to the mirror tells him he’s hardly looking his best, and another glance to the clock shows him it’s one in the afternoon, but he really couldn’t care. thinking of you just made him want you, again.

slipping quietly from his room, he finds that the three of them aren’t alone. at some point saeyoung’s brought over yoosung and zen, and you all were seated around in a circle, playing a game of uno (of all things it could’ve been, it’s uno. judging by the commotion, though, it’s probably a pretty intense game; saeran wouldn’t have found it so stupid if he actually knew how to play the game).

saeyoung tosses (more like slams) down a wild draw four. “u-n-o! i’m calling red, read it and weep, boys!”

yoosung let out a cry of anguish (from what saeran could tell, yoosung had plenty of cards in his hand), adding four cards to his hand. “red, his last card is definitely red. zen, you better do something! he can’t win again!”

“i got this in the bag,” you remark snidely, smirking at saeyoung and tapping a finger over the top of a card.

“so then i guess it doesn’t matter what i play,” zen hums, flicking out a red four out onto the center pile. 

but before you ever had the chance to toss out your own draw four wild card, before you ever had the chance to rub it in saeyoung’s not-so-smug face and cackle, saeran crosses the room in several quick strides, pulls your head back and kisses you.

three pairs of eyes are all on you both, and silence permeates the room.

it’s a chaste kiss, and saeran’s well aware that his breath must’ve tasted like crap and he looks even worse than crap. your eyes are wide when he finally pulls back with a small pop of the lips, the faintest hint of red spilling itself over his cheeks. “..good mornin’,” he mutters, wiping off his lips with the sleeve of his sweater. “sorry if i interrupted your game, i’ll...be going now.”

this was bad. this was really bad. shit, fuck, he fucked up--saeran wanted to say something, had something to tell you, but he couldn’t, not in front of everyone else. yes, as much as saeran couldn’t care about anything, he cared about you. and god, he probably tasted like shit and probably ruined your whole day. how could the earlier atmosphere returned, after that?

so just as quick as saeran came, he’s gone back to lock himself in his room. you immediately throw down your cards and follow after him without a single word--saeyoung leans back against the wall, almost smug as he tucked his arms into the sleeves of his well-worned jacket.

“so,” he starts, catching his friends’ attentions. 

“i think you’d better leave.” 

“wait--”

no questions had the time to be asked, not with the way saeyoung started shoving zen and yoosung out the door.


	2. addictions and cures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for self-harm.

“how are you feeling today?”

saeran only shrugs in response--he didn’t feel like talking much, but hearing you speak is more than enough for him. ocean-green eyes look down in shame as you prompt him to remove his sweater, removing it over his head and placing it upon his side. the air is cold against his skin, as expected of the early mornings (saeyoung didn’t want to pay to use a heater, but paying thousands for his “babies” was more than acceptable, it seems). 

your hands are warm and certain. when you gently grasp his right arm, examining the bloodstained bandages wrapped up to his shoulder, saeran turns his gaze away, left hand playing with the thin sheets of his bed. “well, at least you’re feeling a bit better,” you say as you start to undo the bandages. “so that’s a nice beginning for the morning, isn’t it?”

“i guess,” he mumbled, watching as the bandages fall from his arm in strings. yesterday was a blur for him--he doesn’t remember why he did it, cutting up his arm as badly as he did with shards of broken glass, but he did it, and you found him crushing the glass in a bloody palm, breathing choked and barely audible above the horrid mess that was his arm.

maybe saeran was trying to get rid of his damned tattoo again. he can’t remember very well, only that you rushed him to the bathroom, urging him to clean up as you tossed the glass and cleaned blood off the floor.

he’s expecting you to be angry; he was doing so well, clean for a whole month, but all that progress was instantly flushed the moment he broke that vase. so he wanted you to get angry--yell at him and give up on him, because he’s admitted countless times that he’s nothing but a piece of trash. but no matter what saeran expected, your eyes are gentle, and your fingers are too, ghosting over the raised cuts, all red and scabbed and unsightly (at least it marred the black ink). 

just watching you, seemingly captivated by the plethora of scars and healing cuts above his arm...it’s acquiescent.

for all the shame and guilt saeran had of burdening you with his slow climb to recovery, you were beautiful like that. the sun comes in fragments, but they all light up your face, and your hair seemingly catches and keeps that light. and your eyes--so soft, eyelids drooping in idle thought and... 

saeran jumps when lips brush against his arm, atlantic eyes wide at the sudden contact.

“h-hey...what do you think you’re doing?” he stammered, watching you press kisses over the myriad of red.  
“do you want me to stop?” you lock eyes with him--saeran tears his gaze away, cheeks flushing with red as bright as his hair. “i’m sorry if it was sudden--”

it takes all of his courage to cut you off with a “no, i...you can keep going, it...feels really nice.”

it’s a little pathetic, how he must’ve looked then. he can only imagine; you, holding his arm so cautiously, eyes closed and kissing over the healing flesh. and him, with his head turned away and tilted, to hide his eyes (you once told him that it’s easy to read his emotions, with one single look at saeran’s eyes) and hoping that his red hair would distract you from noticing the redness of his cheeks. you weren’t looking, not with your eyes closed anyways, but he can’t help but fret over this sudden intimacy. 

but it was nice. it was really, really nice, the way your lips felt. all cautious and plush, almost summer-like.

saeran didn’t like summers because it was always too hot and stuffy, and saeyoung’s a cheap whore who refuses to pay for air conditioning, but you shone in the summers.

“--ran. saeran, are you there?”

why was it so easy for him to get caught up in his thoughts? he makes a small noise to show he’s listening, but shame still prevented him from meeting your eyes.

“you’re really quiet--at least, a little more than usual.” he hears you giggle at that, and he feels his heart sumersault in his chest. “are you sure you’re okay?”

you knead gently at his wrist, up his forearm. 

“i’m fine,” saeran brushes his hair over his eyes. he couldn’t see, but at least you couldn’t read his eyes. “...why did you stop?”

“stop what?”

saeran licks his lips nervously, but he does lock gazes with you--he felt so overwhelmingly vulnerable, then, so bare and stripped of his usual nasty demeanor. “kissing my arm,” it’s barely a whisper, but you heard him anyways.

so you laugh at that, calling him cute, and his face flushes even further. “of course,” and you gently bring his hand up to kiss over the numerous miniscule cuts, trailing down to his bony wrist, then his arm, the cuts growing deeper and wider, and your kisses more subdued (he knows that you don’t want to hurt him and put too much pressure). 

by the time you’re kissing over his shoulder, you’ve pulled him closer, and he’s watching you intently with minty eyes.

he calls your name.

when you look up, saeran’s cupping your cheeks and bashfully giving you the smallest kisses over your face--over your forehead and your eyes, the bridge of your nose.

then he’s kissing you on the lips, restrained, but needy and desperate just the same.

so you pull him closer, and weave your fingers through his hair.


	3. without withholding eyes

“saeran, why do you wear contacts?”

you’re leaning against his shoulder, sprawling the rest of your body over the couch and effectively taking up most of the space--it’s a little uncomfortable, really, but saeran doesn’t mind if it’s you. and it wasn’t as if he was doing anything with his hands, either.

“so i don’t look like saeyoung,” he replies, idly swirling a lolipop about in his mouth (you had given one to him, earlier. eating sweets always did pacify him, as childish as it may seem).

“really?” your voice, it’s filled with disbelief. “i thought you didn’t hate him anymore.”

truth be told, saeran doesn’t know why he wears contacts either. he can see quite well, actually. much better than saeyoung, who could only see a few feet in front of him (even if saeran wanted prescription contacts, he didn’t exist in any records; that was the one thing his mother made sure of). so there was really no need for him to wear contacts at all, actually; and he started to let his hair fade out, too, back to its original red hue, a sign of his comfort in saeyoung.

no, saeran didn’t mind looking like saeyoung either. they were twins, after all--but…

“i don’t hate him. i just… i don’t know. i just don’t want to look like him all that much,” saeran pops the candy out of his mouth. “why are you asking me this?”

you look up at him, and he meets your gaze. “oh, i was just thinking about what you’d look like without them on. in all the months i’ve known you, i’ve never once seen you without your contacts, asides from those old photos saeyoung has of you.”

“i’d look exactly the same as saeyoung with or without contacts,” he deadpans. 

you laugh at that. 

“maybe. but, i don’t think saeyoung has this mole,” you bring your finger up to point at the small mole underneath his eye, pressing the pad of your finger against it--he practically leans into your touch, but pretends as if nothing happened. “and i don’t think he’s as cute as you.”

so saeran stares at you. “moles are small things--and we’d still look the same anyways. so technically speaking, neither one of us could be better-looking than the other.”

then he remembers that he still hasn’t finished his lolipop, so he sticks it back in his mouth (one crunch down and it’s gone. he spits out the remaining stick onto the floor, partially as a small “fuck you” to saeyoung but also because he didn’t want to get up)

“you could argue for that all you want, but i still think you’re cuter,” you giggle, giving him a gentle boop on the nose--he blinks, inquiringly tilting his head and scrunching up his nose. “the way you scrunch up your nose like this...or your little family feud with saeyoung.”

he refuses to acknowledge anything regarding his earlier sweets.

regardless, it was so easy for you to make him blush; you were challenging him. he sees it in your eyes, with that small little smirk on your lips, just daring him to look away. yes, saeran did wholeheartedly want to look away, but--

a challenge is a challenge, after all.

“it’s an instinctual reaction,” he shifts himself to let you rest your head upon his lap--his shoulder was getting sore, but a nice rotation of it around and a loud ‘crack!’ was more than blissful. “saeyoung would probably do the same if you did it to him.”

you hum, curling your legs up and folding one over the other in thought. “alright, i’ll give you that. why are we talking about saeyoung anyways? i wanted to see your actual eye color, not have a conversation about the differences between identical twins.”

“are you dissing my brother?”

“what? you do it all the time too, saeran.”

you’re not exactly wrong about that.

“fine, fine, you got me--if i let you see my natural eye color, will you finally stop bothering me about it?” your eyes light up and he immediately looks away--looks like he loses after all. your cry of triumph is just further salt in the wound, but saeran finds himself feeling oddly carefree.

you literally kick him off the couch before he has time to finish his thoughts however, urging him to go to the bathroom and to come back immediately so you could check him out. god, were you always this fussy? (but you being this fussy has gotten you this far with him, and saeran can’t voice any complaints about that, either).

he complies, anyways, and not a moment later he comes back to find you still sprawling on the couch--but with your arms folded across the arm of the couch, head resting on it, eagerly waiting for his return like a puppy. you beckon him closer with a wave of your hand; he reluctantly steps closer and kneels in front of you.

“there, are you happy? i told you i’d look no different from my brother--”

he’s shushed by your finger pressing soft against his lips, and all arguments die in his throat.  
“your eyes are different from saeyoung’s,” you remark, voice suddenly low and soft and--saeran finds himself looking back at you, seemingly anxious of what you were going to say. but he can’t deny that little well of happiness in his chest. 

then it all clicks together.

“there’s a small ring of violet, to your eyes,” and you continue, smoothing the pad of your thumb gingerly over his eyes.

saeran hesitates--and it takes everything for him to quietly murmur that he wanted to look different from saeyoung so you wouldn’t confuse the two of them, so you wouldn’t flock to the wrong twin. it’s easier now because his hair still has streaks of white in it, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling a little selfish, then, a little greedy, then.

he doesn’t have the heart to look at you, undoubtedly staring at him in shock. 

his words came out in a hushed whisper, but the impact is all the same, and suddenly there’s a sinking feeling in his chest. maybe he said the wrong thing? maybe he’s being too selfish, too bold--yes, that must be it. so saeran finds himself rising, excusing himself so he could go to his room and lock himself inside until he felt a little less shameful and a little less guilty.

his therapist said hiding his emotions wasn’t good; but at this point, he honestly doesn’t care.

of course, that was the plan, until you pulled him down by the collar of his shirt and--

“i’d never confuse you for saeyoung.”

saeran finds himself crying, then, and everything comes to the surface. his inferiority, his anxieties, his fears--saeran could never be saeyoung, because saeyoung has always been undoubtedly better. better at hacking, better in health, better in… everything. he wasn’t brainwashed, he wasn’t manipulated or tricked but saeran was, he was because he was weak.

he hated crying in front of others.

you, especially.

but here you are, pulling him into your lap and kissing away his tears, your words a calm rumble of reassurances and your hands, your lips, your everything--

yes, maybe he didn’t mind that much, actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i make saeran cry too easily but i also feel like he'll cry really easily ya feel? he's a sensitive little bean.....
> 
> truth be told im not as fond of this chapter as the others! it didn't go where i wanted it to go in the end, and i hope i at least kept the characterization alright. i still really love the idea of mc wanting to see saeran's actual eye color, but i feel as if i didn't portray it right either ; w;
> 
> thank you for reading, though! feedback is greatly appreciated, i want to make sure that the characters are in-character as much as they can be


	4. proper meetings

saeran remembers the first time he met you.

yes, technically he has met you because he was the one who lured you to the apartment, had been watching you the entire time--but he’s never spoken to you, never greeted you properly. the whole circumstance was abnormal, and you were nothing but another pawn for the savior at the time.

but those days had long since passed, after you and saeyoung came to rescue him. he didn’t understand, then, and he didn’t understand now, why any of you would bother to come back for him after all he’s caused. but it was nice...just thinking about it, and realizing so much had changed in such a short amount of time. because yes, he never talked to you properly until long after he was smuggled out of the hospital and was in a stable-enough mood for saeyoung to introduce him to everyone properly this time.

that day, he recalls, was one of the brightest days he’s ever seen yet.

for that day, he met every member of the rfa, greeted them properly--zen, jaehee, yoosung, jumin--but you weren’t there. saeyoung had told him that you were running late, and wouldn’t show up for awhile.

whatever.

so by the time saeyoung is catching up with everyone, discussing happier times and awaiting your arrival, saeran snuck out of the house. saeyoung lived in a relatively large, but quiet, neighborhood, near the ends of the city; just before sprawling out into vast plains and the even further mountains. 

it was perfect for stowing away--even for just a little bit.

he felt suffocated by the artificiality of cities, cramped neighborhoods. but there was something distinct, something different, a little more freeing than the concepts he was used to--for it was a spare neighborhood (probably where people higher up on the salary list lived) and it gently gave way into the rolling mountains in the distance, stretching seemingly forever. so saeran finds himself walking along the streets, aimlessly; he wasn’t stupid enough to venture to far as to get lost, but it was far enough where he felt he could relax for awhile.

there’s a field of dead grass around the back of the suburbs, seemingly ripe and ready for further construction.

but it’s untouched, save for the litter than sprinkled near the edges of where dirt met unkempt concrete. a little further into this field stood a single lone tree--its branches were thick with green leaves, seemingly the only living flora within this mass. and it will do, saeran decided, and crossed his way through the dead grasses to rest underneath the protective branches of that tree, defying all odds.

the sun was starting to set, casting the field in a blanket of orange, as the tree caught the sunlight and prevented them from ever reaching his face as he lay underneath, basking in the gentle winds, the call of birds as they flew overhead.

it was under that tree that he met you.

because he remembers dozing off, and he remembers waking up when the sun was mostly gone, and the moon had begun to take its place. dusk was here; he couldn’t forget how the sky looked that day, stretches of blue and purple consuming the sky, the clouds illuminated in pink. and then there was you, looking down at him with concern.

“saeran? what are you doing here?”

he remembers flinching at your sudden appearance, scrambling to sit up, every part of his muscles tensed in preparation for...for something. 

“you were gone when i came, so we all went out looking for you...are you okay?”

you reached out a hand to help him to his feet--but saeran hissed in carnal fear, swiping your hand away.

“don’t come any closer! stay away!” he snarled, curling away from you, ready to lash out. to this day, saeran thinks he reacted like a goddamn idiot, so quick to refuse the slightest hints of help.

...and the sun further disappeared into the horizon, sinking below into the wash of darkness. he remembers watching the shadows and lights flicker about your form; you were dressed neatly--maybe too overdressed for such a simple occasion--with your hair was parted slightly, clean and smooth. for a moment, he wondered why someone like you would ever be talking to someone like him in the first place.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. i’m not here to hurt you,” you smiled gently at him, and he froze. it’s almost as if you were talking to a child. the worthless, stupid, unwanted saeran, who, after everything, is still a damned child (but he was never treated so kindly as a child). “hey, the others are probably worried sick about you--especially saeyoung. do you want to head back in my car?” you jab a thumb back the ways you came, your smile never faltering, no matter how hard saeran intently stared at you. “you don’t even have to talk to me or anything… and you can sit in the back.”

no response. 

normally by this point, he’d expect you to walk off and leave him alone to his own musings, and he’d just be glad that he protected himself for the time being. yes, give up on him, like everyone else did.

...but you didn’t leave. 

no, without another word, you sat down underneath the tree too, a little further from saeran--his eyes trailed after you as you leaned back against the rough bark, gazing up into the sky. the stars were barely visible, but they were fading into existence, the clouds shifting into hues of cool gray. so saeran sat and watched you silently the entire time, expecting you to do something more than just sit there. you did do something more than just sit; just not what he wanted.

you started talking to him.

you start telling him stories about your childhood. your little hobbies and any funny stories that you could remember. you tell him the sad things, too, tell him what you’ve learned from losing friends and family. you tell him everything you could remember.

somewhere, saeran started talking to you too. at first it was nothing; just him listening and trying to pretend you weren’t there. but then he started making little interjections. asking questions.

and then he told you his story in return.

he spoke about the horrors he and saeyoung endured under his mother’s roof, about saeyoung’s promise, about their secretive trip outside for some ice cream. frankly, saeran doesn’t know why he’s talking to you, or telling you this much about himself. but you’re listening, and you’re sitting closer this time (he hesitated when you did come closer, but when nothing came, when nothing happened, he steadily let himself adjust to your presence). 

you both stayed there under that tree for several hours.

saeyoung had to track down your phone (frankly, saeran didn’t have one after destroying it in another aggression fit) to find the both of you. by the time everyone had arrived, saeran was sleeping--you would tell him later on that you rested his head upon your lap, somewhere more comfortable than a tree trunk (saeran has tried to pry more details out of you, but you kept your mouth shut, and made sure everyone else did too).

after that night, saeran remembers waking up to find a basket on his nightstand, absolutely brimming with different kinds of sweets--a little card was tucked in, signed by everyone in the rfa (it was a birthday card, by the way. it wasn’t his birthday).

“Welcome to the RFA.” - Jumin Han

“There were other cards besides this one, but Saeyoung insisted on getting this one for you. I apologize for any inconvenience as a result of your brother’s oddities.” - Jaehee Kang

“A lot has happened these past weeks, but I’m really glad that you’re a part of the RFA now! We’re all here to help you : )” - Yoosung

“I’m sorry that Jumin’s such an ass that he can’t even give you a proper greeting like everyone else. I think you’ll fit well here with everyone--MC is really fond of you” - ZEN

“happy birthday saeran, thanks for turning 80 so soon and giving me a big scare!!!! don’t worry tho, your great brother, S A E Y O U N G, forgives you~

p.s. come out of ur room, i actually cooked something for once” - the best bro in the world

“Good morning Saeran, I hope you slept well! I’m sorry that I couldn’t arrive sooner and that I scared you, but I’m glad you opened up to me last night, I appreciate it! Thank you for trusting me at least this much to tell me what happened : ) Remember, everyone is here for you! Call me if you ever need anything at all, I don’t mind <3” - MC

things didnt seem so bad then. 

and they don’t seem so bad now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really didn't want to use MC but i didnt want to put an actual name or anything so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> im also uploading this kinda early because i keep writing--im literally almost done with the next one lmaooo


	5. early morning ramblings

there are many things saeran is guilty of.

they were unfounded guilts, irrational and born out of his own self-loathing. but no matter how much saeran knew of this irrationality, of his own weakness, it triumphed every little argument he could bring up to himself. even the little memories that confirmed everything was so easily shattered with the slightest whisper of doubt and dread.

everyone forgave him. everyone he had targeted, had attempted to murder--they all forgave him in the end, and he hated it.

how could you all forgive him so easily? he murdered v. he took him away with a single decision in the droves of his insanity, his horrible attempts to find some ground for his emotions.

but everyone forgave him.

especially you. you, who was at the center of everything. you, who he manipulated. you, who he hurt so many times. you. 

and it’s always in these sleepless nights that saeran finds himself thinking, that when the shadows creep out from their hiding places within the cracks of his psyche, ready to tease and torment him with echoing laughter, each word laced with teeth and fangs. it’s these nights where saeran starts to get a little bad again, where his fingers twitch with the carnal hunger of restlessness.

but it’s also these nights where he comes to you the most. how pathetic it was, really, but you had promised him time and time again that you were there for him, that you loved him and cherished him. you gave him these promises months ago.

you hadn’t broken a single one since.

maybe saeran depended on you too much, but his hands move of their own and he’s calling you again, at three in the morning. (pathetic, pathetic, that he needs you this much, that he wanted you this much). 

it only takes a few moments before you answer, sleepiness laced in your voice. and then the guilt floods him and his thumb hovers over the end call button. fuck, he always did this--he’s so pathetic and weak it’s laughable.

“mm...saeran, what’s wrong? do you need me to come over?” he would love it if you did, but comments nothing on that thought.

saeran swallows, thick, and the only thing he can stutter is a weak, “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay,” your voice comes back clearer, this time, and he hears the shuffling of bedsheets as you sit up. “do you want to talk about it?”

you always knew. you always knew what he needed. you always knew, and you always were patient and kind--too fucking kind. but you were what saeran wanted the most. yes, he could always talk to saeyoung about it, or anybody in the rfa, or even the variety of help lines saeyoung pooled together for him. all these options, all these alternatives, and he’s still here clinging to you. 

because in the face of everything else, it was always you.

yes, saeran knows if he looks deep enough into his reflection. he loved his brother. he was good friends with everyone else as well. but he always went to you...because of your sincerity. because you were surrounded by serendipity. because you had suffered just as he has, and you were the one who always knew what to say, what to do. 

everyone had their own doubts with darkness. you were no different--but your light seemingly tore through all of it.

“i just...wanted to ask you something,” saeran breathes shakily after a minute of consideration, a minute of racing thoughts and regrets. he almost expects you to tell him no.

but he knows you won’t.

“of course,” and he can practically hear your smile, “you can ask me anything.”

he exhales. “why did you forgive me for everything that’s happened? i--i tried to take everything from you. i tried to take everything from everyone else, even from my own brother and…” and the words just come spilling out. “how could you forgive me? i don’t understand, i wanted to kill you and everyone dear to you, i wanted to--i wanted…!”

“saeran.”

the words all die in his throat.

“i forgave you because you deserved to be forgiven.”

he wanted to scream. he didn’t deserve anything, nothing at all, nothing, nothing, nothing--he was a mistake, a horrible, horrible mistake. 

but you. your voice remains calm, and you continue on, smooth and steady. “i forgave you because i know that you wanted to be forgiven. yes, you’ve done some pretty horrible things, but that doesn’t mean you deserve any less than anyone else. it’s not your fault, saeran.” 

he wanted to cry.

“you can think...that it’s your fault all you want. i can’t stop you for thinking a certain way. but i will tell you, time and again, what i think. and i think you deserve another chance. i think you deserve to be happy again. i think you deserve to be loved, just like anyone else.”

and you always knew what to say.

saeran didn’t know how to respond to that. even if he did, he’s afraid of saying something wrong. he’s done it before--many times, actually. and it’s always a slip of the tongue, a slip into old habits. thinking about it makes his head hurt and his skin crawl.

you stayed by his side anyways; he knew you knew that he’s scared and pathetic and afraid after everything else is stripped away.

so the two of you remain on the phone for awhile--with nothing but stretching silence in between. saeran isn’t sure what to say at all, and most of him refuses to say a single word, not until he’s collected his bearings and strung himself back together again. and you could’ve left anytime during his reconstruction, could’ve told him you have to go back to sleep so you can return to work well-rested, could’ve given any excuse. but you don’t say any of these things.

all you said was, “when you’re ready to talk, i’ll be here.” 

so saeran listens to the sound of your breathing--light, airy. he listens until his head stops aching, until he stops feeling so restless. he listens until he feels like he is ready to talk.

an intake of air.

a quiet shuffle on the other end of the phone.

then, “i’m sorry that i keep asking you these things… i know i’m just being unreasonable, it’s--it’s not very like me.” but who is saeran? even he doesn’t know. he’s always fluctuating, maddeningly so.

“you don’t have to be sorry for wanting some reassurance,” you’re composed, placid--a drink of oasis waters.

“i feel like i ask too much of you.”

“even if you did, i’ll still pick up the phone in the middle of the night just to make sure you’re still okay. i don’t think i’d feel normal without a call from saeran choi at four in the morning,” you giggle, and he can’t help but smile at that, too.

“i don’t deserve someone like you,” he stops, then starts again in a slow drawl. “i don’t deserve someone like you, but i’d be lying if i said i didn’t want someone like you. i...i feel like i’ve waited for someone like you for years.”

he hears that little hitch in your breath. his teeth thumb over his bottom lip.

“saeran,” his name falls from your mouth in the quietest of falls and whispers, of suspended disbelief.

“i know it sounds cheesy and stupid, but i mean every word i say. there’s only so much saeyoung can do on his own for me, so having even a little outsider help… i just want to thank you for still being here beside me after everything i’ve done to hurt you,” the words come naturally--it’s embarrassing how his voice trembled with each word. saeran’s still afraid. that you’d reject him after he bears himself full to you (no, you’re the only one who he’s ever had this problem with). 

there is utter silence. then, slowly, he hears your paced exhale, “saeran... you’re so sweet, i honestly don’t know what to say.” 

his hand comes over his hair--a soothing tick. you always had something to say. something profound and compassionate, and if not that, something that could bring him to smile. but saeran’s rendered you speechless, and, oh, he likes that a lot actually. that, for all the influence you hold over him, he still has his own over you. 

a mutual control… something saeran was denied from the moment of his birth.

“would you mind if i told you i want to be a little selfish,” and the words drop low and his vision flutters. “that… i really want to see you right now?”

he hears you swallow, then--

“no… i don’t mind.”

“i’ll be waiting.”


	6. obligatory christmas chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the longest chapter i've ever written and it gave me so much hell. i think i rewrote it so many times but honestly i'm too tired to even care anymore so just take it. merry christmas everyone, i hope yall got some nice gifts.
> 
> unless youre like me, and didnt get any gifts because youre a goddamn hermit

saeran has never celebrated christmas before.

rather, much of his early christmas days consisted of his mother starving him and keeping him tied by his ankle (he still has the scars), giving him only one break to head to the bathroom. a weak, bastard child like him didn’t deserve anything at all, is what she’d use to tell him. it was a fucking mess, honestly. his fondest memories of christmas consisted of saeyoung offering him some food he had snuck in from the church christmas party, a little celebration they would have right up until his brother disappeared.

since he was born, the thought of having a merry christmas was only limited to fantasies. he’s dreamed of their freedom--of santa telling him and saeyoung that they weren’t dirty children, and that they deserve to go somewhere far away where their mother can’t reach. he’s dreamed of saeyoung telling him that he worked for santa now, so they could go up with all the elves and help all the other children in need.

but they were nothing but fantasies, and saeran doesn’t care to indulge himself in such play--they reminded him too much of his mother. just thinking about her makes her skin crawl, and he can almost swear that his scars start to ache.

\--

saeran wakes up to find you and saeyoung standing over his bed.

it’s christmas eve--he should’ve expected at least this much. 

“since tomorrow’s going to be your first christmas, i thought we might try and make it a special day for you? we’re hosting a christmas party tomorrow, and the other members of the rfa are invited, so we should start shopping and cleaning the house,” you explain, yanking the blankets off of saeran to force him out of bed and…

wait. how did you know it was his first celebrated christmas?

saeran glances sharp to saeyoung, who smiles and points finger guns at him. of fucking course. who else could it have been? saeran can tell his brother “no” as many times as it takes to get him to shut up about a christmas party, but he can’t tell you no--not with the way you’re looking at him with stars twinkling in your eyes, rambling about your plans and how much fun they’re all going to have, the whole deal.

“okay, i’ll go, but… aren’t the stores going to be busy? you know i get really bad headaches when i’m out in noisy places,” he yields, rubbing his eyes--he hardly got a wink of sleep last night, but it was nothing really new for him anyways.

“we can go to the local store,” saeyoung chimes in. “the bigger stores closer to the inner city are more packed, but i checked and things seem to be relatively quiet in the local store.”

a pause.

“how would you know?” saeran deadpans.

“i might… have pulled a few strings.” saeyoung gives him a stupid grin, leaning his elbow on your shoulder.

“hey, no arguing this early in the morning, boys. saeran, get ready, we’ll be waiting for you.” his heart flutters at the little smile you give him, and as you exit his room with saeyoung, you blow him a kiss.

left alone in his room, saeran gently touches his lips with a finger.

\--

a trip to the grocery store shouldn’t be as embarrassing as it was, but saeyoung is saeyoung, and sometimes things can’t be avoided. pushing saeyoung around in a separate cart from yours makes him feel like he’s a father, especially with the way his twin can’t keep his hands off things.

if he felt like the father, you probably felt like the mother. 

it takes a variety of strange looks shot their way for saeran to finally yank the cart forward, dumping saeyoung in an unceremonious heap with the festive snacks he had buried himself in earlier (“this is what it must feel like to be jumin and bathe in money everyday!” “saeyoung, it’s junk food.”) 

out of the three of them, you were the one actually shopping--and you were too caught up with the grocery shopping to even notice the twins’ antics. not that saeran was actually involved, but it was difficult having to pry saeyoung off from whatever scheme he was up to (he blames the festive spirit for making his twin so damn excitable and a whole lot more troublesome than he normally is. saeyoung called it “familial bonding,” but it was a load of bullcrap anyways)

god, they really were embarrassing you. things couldn’t get any worse, but they do.

“hey saeran, check this out!” he turns to find saeyoung balancing cans of soda on an outstretched arm, wobbling back and forth to balance the carbonated drinks. “help me put the others on my other arm, i’m going for a world record.”

saeran looks to you for help, but you’re all the way down the aisle, intently surveying the different seasonings--and he’d rather not embarrass you any more than they already have. “saeyoung stop fooling around, we came here to shop, not pay for damages caused at the store,” he moves closer to his twin to forcibly remove the cans.

“hey, hey, no touching! i’m not going to let you ruin my streak!!” and somehow, saeyoung maneuvers the soda cans into his arms and takes off sprinting down the aisle.

“oh my god, saeyoung, you’re not a little kid anymore!”

“ya i am, don’t you remember? i’m four years old.”

“saeyoung, i’m serious here! we don’t want to cause any more problems--” and then saeran darts after his twin in a flash of red hair.

they ended up getting kicked out the store after saeran tackled saeyoung to the ground and wrestled the cans of soda out of his arms, knocking down a stack of condensed milk in the process with saeyoung hollering at the top of his lungs.

having to sit outside the store waiting for you to finish up the shopping was pretty humiliating, and the lecture you gave them in the drive home was even more so.

later that day, he and saeyoung had to clean the entire house, top to bottom (could he really feel any more like a little child?)

...it’s all saeyoung’s fault.

\--

come the following christmas morning, you wake saeran up early to begin cooking. he wanted to ask how you were here so early--saeyoung was busy snoring off in his bed the next room over, and you didn’t speak a lick of arabic. but by this point, saeran’s too tired to even bother questioning you, or to resist as you practically pull him out from under the covers (the boy was hardly heavy).

“why can’t saeyoung help us?” is exchanged rather hurriedly as you yank him to the kitchen--there were only so many hours left before the others would arrive, and you wanted to have steaming plates of food ready for everyone to dig in.

“because he has to decorate the house,” you explain, pulling ingredients out of the fridge in succession.

“you know he’ll just hang mistletoes in front of the door.”

a pause--a napa cabbage is shoved into his arms, and your lips seal over his (saeran almost drops it with how slack he went at the little kiss.

“mistletoe,” you tease and saeran’s head snaps up to the ceiling--but the plant is nowhere to be found. he looks back to find you giggling, and gently boop his nose. “let’s just get started. i’ll need you to cut the entire cabbage.”

all complaints dies in his throat, and he can only dumbly nod.

\--

okay, so somewhere along the way, everything went horribly wrong.

everyone had arrived only a few hours ago--pleasantries were exchanged, and a hefty meal was enjoyed, filled with bickering and laughter that even saeran found himself partaking in. now that was only a few hours ago, but it hardly took long for everyone to start getting drunk as well. 

so here saeran was, sitting on a chair and enjoying the home baked sponge cake he made with you, watching everything turn to absolute shit. at some point jumin had announced rather calmly he had a present to give to everyone, and proceeded to toss out wads of cash (he slapped zen with one in the process, to which jaehee slapped jumin with one of zen’s dvds). yoosung was content to roll on the floor, hungrily scooping up the money--saeyoung busied himself with dancing in a skimpy mrs. claus outfit. saeran didn’t bother to question where he got it either. 

everyone but you and him were shitfaced--you drank a bit yourself, but remained sober to pick up after everyone else. saeran, on the other hand, couldn’t really drink alcohol due to his medication, but he would’ve if he could. he wanted to get just as shitfaced too.

but it was pretty funny watching the scene unfold in a chaotic mess of crying, dancing and money. 

“how are you enjoying the party?” you slide into a chair next to him, watching as he picks off a piece of the sponge cake and shoves it into his mouth.

“is this what you had to deal with when you first joined the rfa?” sea-green eyes flow over to you in idle curiosity, the christmas lights draping from the walls illuminating you dimly. 

“no, i think this is the first time i’ve seen them as drunk as this,” you muse, kicking your legs back and forth. there is a choked screaming from saeyoung as yoosung collapses on him, and in the process of falling down, drags down saeyoung’s outfit. “it’s pretty funny though.”

a soft hum is given in response, saeran watching as saeyoung scrambles to redress himself, currently sobbing. with the way yoosung laid on the floor, saeran’s pretty sure that the boy is dead. 

“you know, you didn’t have to go through all of this just for me,” he breathes, idly squeezing the sponge cake between bony fingers. he didn’t feel hungry anymore. “but i… really appreciate the effort. thank you for thinking about me so much.” he places aside the plate, eyes falling down to rest on the tiled floor, hair ghosting over his eyes. 

“i… heard about your early christmas experience. with your mother,” you start slowly, and saeran feels his blood run cold at the mention of his mother. “i know it’s not something you like to talk about, since you didn’t even tell it to me, but… i wanted to make things up to you somehow. this is a new chapter in your life, after all, and i wanted to make you happy.”

your words come like a gentle stream, each slow and thoughtful and considerate--you didn’t want to push on any sore wounds. what did he ever do to deserve someone like you?

the distant shouting of the drunkards fade into white noise, the lights and everything else drowned out by darkness; all except for the little corner you and saeran shared, lights strung about you both, all glimmering like the stars themselves. and suddenly, he doesn’t feel so alone anymore.

“thank you… i--truthfully, i finally feel like i belong somewhere. everyone’s having their fun in their alcohol-induced states, but even before that they all talked to me and they didn’t… they didn’t judge me either. to think i once tried to kill you all it… it makes me hate myself so much,” and his hand falls to his shoulder in remembrance, clawing at his arm through the fabric of his ugly christmas sweater. “you’ve made me really happy just by being with me, despite everything. this… this is more than enough.”

“saeran, you’re crying--”

and he was. there was hardly a sob or a breaking of his voice, just the gentle slips of tears down his cheeks. 

“i know… i’m fine. don’t worry about me.”

he rubs away his tears with the back of his hand, and then--

your arms come to wrap around him in an ever familiar embrace, and you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “i’m not worried about you,” you whisper, your breath warm and hot against his face. and the tears come fresh again, and he smiles stupid at you, and you kiss him and he kisses you back.

in the distance, saeyoung’s shrill voice echoes something about the two of you, but saeran’s too happy to even care, even when saeyoung comes up and points at you both, just hugging and kissing and--

perfect.


	7. first dates

for all the months saeran loved you (something that is still difficult for him to admit), you’ve never had a proper date.

as unusual as it may seem, saeran has his own anxieties with going into public. no, he’s never been scared of strangers. it was the sight of so many people, hustling and bustling within the inner city, all crowds and rush hours, that shook him the most. the majority of his life was spent in confinement--and witnessing so many new sounds, faces, the occasional bumps into others left him with horrible headaches afterwards. 

no, city life was never comfortable with him. having saeyoung live on the city outskirts was something saeran greatly appreciated (but he knew that even if saeyoung lived near the center of the city, he would gladly move just to care for his twin).

saeran had all the reasons in the world to stay close to home, but he can’t help but feel guilty. yes, maybe you two were dating, but you’ve never had the “normal” dating experience with him.

there was no amusement parks or theatres, no haunted houses or restaurants, no tours or travel experiences. the farthest that you two got to public dating consists of trips to the grocery store--and even then most of the time was spent with you teaching him what to look for in fresh produce and meats, what spices and seasonings to get and so forth (the main reasons for this is because saeran has a sensitive stomach, and his past abuse left him skinnier and shorter than saeyoung; so it’s high time he started learning to care for himself properly).

it’s practically embarrassing how much you do baby him. everyone has already caught onto it; and while he wore a facade of apathy, he couldn’t deny that it was pathetic and shameful. 

you’ve told him before that just getting to spend time with him was worth it.

but saeran wanted you to have a little more than just trips to the grocery or skygazing. everything had been tailored to his needs--but he wouldn’t mind pushing his boundaries to make you happy. you deserved it, in his eyes.

as long as it wasn’t anything outlandish, he’d knew you accept.

maybe it’s a little cliche and overdone, but he asks you to go on a date with him to the cafe (truth be told, he’s most attracted to the idea of sweets more than anything else).

saeran can tell you’re excited at the thought of it, but that doesn’t stop you from over his mental health. 

“i don’t want you to stress yourself out just for me, are you sure it’s okay?”

“yeah. it’s fine. i think it’ll be a good experience for me to start getting used to the city.”

so you agreed.

you ended up driving saeran to the cafe--mainly because you were the one who knew where the best cafes are, thanks to jaehee’s recommendations, and because you happened to be the one who can legally drive with a license. 

much of the ride was spent with you fussing over saeran, and a phone call from saeyoung where he cried about how proud he was of his brother, willing to brave obstacles just to make you happy. saeran thinks it’s a little stupid, but he plays along for a little anyways--saeran, hero who will endure whatever was tossed at him for the sake of protecting his love! saeran, the ever bold! it’s only when you giggle about how cute that is that saeran gets embarrassed and hung saeyoung up without another word.

\--

the cafe was named the ‘whole latte love cafe.’ 

as ridiculous as the name was, you told saeran that this place did serve the best lattes and was always relatively quiet. it did feel a little bit like home--saeran’s never been one to drink coffee, but the place smelled nice and it looked nice, sunlight filtering in through the windows. 

the walls were a creamy dark brown, accented by the evergreen plants that decorated the place in the corners and on tabletops--a few patches of the wall even had artificial vines draped over it, and a few spots had simple murals of coffee-related drinks drawn in simple white. much of the seats were cushioned, and there were even several couches sprawling across the light wooden floor. the counters were granite and smooth, where behind the employees worked and chatted with one another in their spare time. 

the first thing that drew saeran’s eyes was obviously the row of pastries they had on display. you catch him staring like a starstruck kid, and offered to buy something for him (saeran didn’t work after all)--he immediately jumped on a slice of chocolate eclair cake. the boy was always overly fond of chocolate.

you, on the other hand, simply settled for trying one of the cafe’s lattes, with a little cream heart.

you sat next to saeran on one of the couches, close enough for your legs to touch--he’s busy savoring each bite of the cake to notice that you’ve been watching him, idly drinking from your cup, enjoying the humble atmosphere. 

except, when he does catch you staring with a little giddy smile on your face.

that is what snaps him out of his sweet torpor. “what?” he tilts his head, red hair flickering over his eyes. “is something wrong…?”

you hum, reaches a hand out to brush the strands aside. “no, i was just thinking about how nice it is to watch you eat,” he blushes at that, and tries to frown to hide his smile. “and how cute it was of you to want to go on a date with me after the negative experiences you’ve had in public.”

he shovels another piece of cake in his mouth, thinking as he rolls the piece around on his tongue and swallows. “i am a little nervous,” he admits softly. “but being here with you is really nice, actually… this place, it isn’t so bad that it’ll overwhelm me. you’ve helped me, and i just wanted to make it up to you.”

“you’re really honest,” and how can he not be? your eyes are soft and lidded, looking at the little white heart. just that alone makes it difficult to lie to you. “you’re cute, saeran. let me know if it gets too much for you, okay?” 

“i’m not cute,” that part was muttered under his breath, but you hear it anyways and giggle at him, further deepening his blush. “and i know, i will.”

with that said, he goes back to consuming his cake, the little prattle of the background like ambience to him--no, it wasn’t anything overwhelming at all, the little buzz of people living their daily lives. it’s nothing like the sounds of cars and motorcycles sweeping back, horns sounding or people brushing past him in a rush, talking loudly to hear one another midst the haze of the city rush.

this little cafe, the quietness of it, the mellow, cozy atmosphere, that gentle scent of fresh coffee beans and--and you, beside him, all warm and soft too, silently sipping away your cup.

yes, this is something he could get used to.

by the time saeran’s finished with his cake and you with your latte, placed down for an employee to come and whisk it away, you’re on your phone, the messenger app opened and giggling softly at the screen.

“hey,” and your name falls from his lips. by the time you had to look up, saeran pulls you into a soft hug, hiding his face in the crook of your neck so you couldn’t see him blushing. “today was nice. i liked being here with you.”

you both didn’t talk much during your little date. it’s hardly anything special, this date--nothing with fanfare or grandeur. and maybe it could’ve been a little awkward, a little uncomfortable, but saeran felt completely at ease besides you, simply enjoying one another’s presence and closeness. 

but for all its lack of spectacularity, it will remain special to his heart. the simplicity and brevity of this little date--it’s not often something that’s romanticized these days. the gradual fall into love and acceptance, of utter trust and soul bearing. passion is nice--but it’s not something saeran has ever been interested in. he’s never been carnal when it came to desire. all he really wanted was to hold you close and whisper nothings that were a little more than just nothings.

your arms fall around his back, and he stays there within your arms, and you in his, breathing and swallowing in your scent as if it were his first breath of fresh air. you say nothing, because you didn’t need to say nothing.

and saeran doesn’t bother saying anything more either. the nuances of words can only go so far as the nuances in actions.

so you both stay there, just like that, for a little while, and you only head home when saeran tells you that he’s getting a little dizzy.

when you both leave, he falls asleep in your car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if yall got any prompts or suggestions, lemme know
> 
> (i really like one word prompts btw)


	8. falling, underneath the sea of stars

if you take an hour drive down the long path out of the city, you’ll reach the mountains, a slow roll of the vast lands over plains, fading into a thicket of forests, like blankets up the sides of the mountains. there was not a single trace of urbanization along these hulking giants, asides from the paved roads that cut through--no, these lands were seemingly untouched by mankind. and even further above the mountains glowered the moon and stars. 

not a single touch of artificial light licked up towards the sky, so shone the celestial skies with not a lick of artificiality to taint them. the stars, the star dust and nebulae--all were visible to the eye, peacocking themselves like gods in olympus.

and saeran loved the sky, hopelessly so. he fell in love with it long before he was free to gaze at the sky whenever he wanted--he fell in love when saeyoung carried him on his back and they went for ice cream.

he fell in love with the sky, and fell in love with you under it.

\--

it is almost two a.m. by the time you all arrive at the mountains.

he had begged you and saeyoung both to take him to the mountains--for he had woken earlier with a jolt, and the sudden paranoia sank its claws in and refused to let go. he needed to see the sky at its best, needed to because he couldn’t stop shaking and quivering. his mother’s words run deep in his veins. he saw her ghost and he cried, longing for the stars.

saeran drank in the mountain air like it was his first breath. he had practically thrown himself out of the car, ran forward and rolled in the lush grass. with childish wonder, he gazed up at the sky and every doubt and thorn was yanked from his body.

and oh, it shone so brightly--in the faint distance he hears the car powering down, and grass shuffling as you come and lay down by his side.

saeyoung remained near his car, content to merely watch you both, shadows dancing in the distance (for he knew that, in suspended moments like these, it’s best to leave it for you and saeran to figure it out). 

there was something so humanae about watching the stars--with their full glory and grace, that quiet splendor that left so many people, thousands of years ago, absolutely breathless. maybe things still haven’t changed that much from those ancient lands. but saeran doesn’t know, cannot know, because he’s never thought long into these sorts of things, and usually can never think into these sorts of things because right now, you’re here and you’re watching the stars with him, sprawled about the grass and hand barely touching his.  
and somehow, he weaves his fingers with yours like the clouds weave themselves with the stars. “thank you,” and his breath brushes out all hushed and quiet, childlike and innocent. “for being here with me tonight… you didn’t have to come and watch me watch the sky as if it’s the first time i’ve ever seen it.”

you laugh at that, and it sounds like wind chimes. a soft ringing that etched itself into memory. you’re not perfect, but god, could he believe that you were.

“you don’t have to keep thanking me for these kinds of things. you’re not in debt to anyone here--saeyoung and i, we’re both here because we love and care for you. you deserve little moments like these, too.”

“but you don’t have to spend it with me.”

you smile at him, and he looks back to find you grinning stupid at him. and he can’t help but smile--with teeth--too. “but i want to,” you echo. and oh, he feels like he hasn’t loved you enough at this point, hasn’t done enough for you at this point. “you mean a lot to me, saeran, and i wouldn’t want to spend this night any other way.”

a pause, a hesitant breath, then-- “i don’t think this night would be the same without you here,” and saeran feels a little dumb saying it, a little cheesy, but no matter his inner thoughts he just continues, because he doesn’t know what else to do. “i don’t think any night would be the same without you. as much as i care for saeyoung and he cares for me, there’s… only so much brothers can do for each other.”

you hum, gazing back up at the sky (saeran looks up with you, too). “but there’s a lot a brother can do, don’t you think?”

“i don’t mean it like i’m not appreciative of what saeyoung does do--”

“i know, saeran,” you sit up, the grass crinkles and his eyes follow your rising form. “but you should trust saeyoung a little more, too. i can’t always be here for you.”

“...i’m aware of that.”

you shift to lean over him, brushing your hands over his hair to lock eyes with him--and as much as he wanted to look away, he couldn’t. the moon barely shines over your darkened form, and the stars overhead seemed to twinkle with interest, falling through the strands of your hair and your limbs. but the light always seemed to hit you just right, and saeran finds himself breathless--a different kind of breathlessness, an antiquity he doesn’t get when he sees the stars alone.

“i know you are,” you comfort, and your lips falls over his forehead like a drop of rain--cool, slightly wet. “but i’m only human too.”  
“yeah… yeah, i know,” saeran mumbles and--just like that you’re on your back, firm hands planted on the side of your head. and saeran is staring down at you and you realize that oh, his eyes are full of molten gold tonight and his lashes are long and his hair, thick and wavy and there’s the faintest hint of pink dusting over his cheeks and he’s pouting, childish.

“i’m human, too,” he exhales, all even and slow. you looked dazzling, sublime, the moon barely touching you then with the way he loomed over you, possessive and desperate and wanting so much more than just this. “and i can’t help it if i want you to stay, if i miss you so much that my chest aches.” he gently presses your hand against his heart, and his eyes are all amber and scared because the words run in his head and he’s afraid you’ll reject him, push him away and not say another word. “i just… i--i love you, too much, for your sake.”

and saeran looks away and swallows, thick and full, and he waits for you to tell him “no,” to save yourself before he can ever dare to hurt you again.

but the shove never comes, and your voice never raises. there is no pain and no hurt, just the gentle caress of your hand over his cheek and your fingers are warm and he can’t help but lean towards your touch. 

he’s crying, again. there are no fallen tears, but the shimmering of them over his eyes. 

“i feel like i’m nothing but a burden to you. i always ask too much and expect too much but i can’t help--i can’t help but love you,” his words come out in choked sobs and then the tears fall. “i’m sorry i’m not good enough for you, i have all these issues and they aren’t going away and--”

“saeran,” your voice cuts like glass and all words die in his throat, your hands cupping his face, gently wiping away his tears. “i love you too. you don’t need to apologize for things you can’t control. you’ve been doing so good. i’m proud of you, and saeyoung is too. everyone wants you to get better, you don’t need to rush things. we’re all here for you.”

and he lets you pull him down to kiss over his tears, his eyes, your lips leaving ghosts on his skin that makes him shiver and quake with choked sobs.

saeran loves you. he loves you so much, and you love him too, and as you kiss him again and again underneath the sky, he can’t help but fall in love with you all over again.

so he cries, ugly and loud. 

saeyoung comes running, and your voice ghosts over his ear,

“let’s go home, saeran.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's kind of short, this chapter. i might write a little bonus for this one, too.


	9. bonus; falling, underneath the sea of stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when u wake up because of acid reflux and just kinda ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

saeran begged you to stay with him for the night.

normally you’d be off on your way home after the stargazing trip up the mountains, but tonight saeran needed you. so you stayed and held him tight in your arms, letting him sink his weight into you with a slow sigh, content to bask in your warmth and scent--every other minute or so he tells you he loves you just to hear you say it back, and nuzzle even closer to you.

he’s literally draped himself over you, sprawling about your body like a needy cat. a few times he runs his hands over you, wants to feel and reconfirm that you are here with him, that you exist, that he’s awake.

once a few times his hands play just shy to sliding up your shirt--his hands are cold, but not overly so, just barely calloused.

maybe you should’ve said something, but you realized you actually don’t care.

so you let saeran do as he pleases and halfway through he has to ask you if he’s being too touchy--you tell him no.

and then you urge him to continue.

_this_ is how you found yourself pressing saeran close to you, kissing him with a subdued passion that lingers nonetheless. saeran favors this just as much and he makes little noises of satisfaction when you intertwine your fingers into his hair or let your hands run down his sides (saeran is unsurprisingly skinny and lanky--less muscular than saeyoung is, due to his weakened immunity, but he still feels so firm and right beneath your fingers).

saeran runs his tongue, hot and wet against your lips and then he’s apologizing and stuttering because he’s never done anything like this before and it’s sloppy and messy and you’re both a mess. so you whisper to him, hushed, that it’s okay and that he can make as many mistakes as he wanted, and _oh_ , the way your voice dipped low had him quivering.

so he presses himself against you, and you whimper and he watches you all red and flushed and _intoxicatingly_ beautiful.

saeran held you close that night--closer than he’s ever dared and it all felt _so right_.


	10. new hobbies--and saeyoung's big fat mouth spoiling everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternative title: saeyoung is a big fat cunt

maybe picking up knitting as a hobby was a bad idea.

it’s not because saeran didn’t enjoy it, because he did--it kept his hands busy whenever he felt the urge to claw at himself again, and overall it was a very simple, enjoyable hobby that he could do in tandem with other activities. it was very monotonous, but it was easy above all else; there really was no reason for him to not enjoy knitting as much as he did. no, rather, the main issue was when saeran gave saeyoung a beanie he knitted himself.

it was hardly anything special, and one of the first things he made actually, a little rough and sloppy as a result. but saeyoung absolutely loved it. he loved it so much, he began to cry and babble like a baby.

“saeran, you made this for me? oh, what did i do to deserve such a sweet little brother!” saeyoung sobs, and regret flooded every inch of saeran’s soul.

“you don’t know who was born first, idiot,” saeran deadpanned, only for saeyoung to pull him into a tight hug, still loudly sobbing out praises and wondering aloud how he could be so kind and cute after everything that’s happened between them. saeran didn’t push him away, though--he didn’t really have the heart to, and being hugged by his brother isn’t as horrible as it seems (even though saeyoung proceeded to cling to him for the next few minutes, wherein he was pried off).

the next thing is that saeyoung starts to brag to everyone about saeran’s new hobby, how adorable it was and how he wore that simple beanie until it shredded (saeran refused to fix it, much to saeyoung’s dismay and many minutes of crying betrayal).

knitting was supposed to be a side hobby for him--and he wanted to keep it under the radar since he wanted to surprise you with something later on. but because of saeyoung’s big, fat mouth, the secret was spilled as saeyoung sent you (and quite frankly, everyone else in the messenger) a variety of images of saeran knitting the intricate scarf (how cheesy, he knows) and the accompanying little plush animals to go with it.

saeran should’ve noticed when saeyoung snuck into his room as well to take all those photos, but considering his brother’s past of infiltrating as a secret agent and how concentrated saeran was on the projects… 

well, let’s leave it at that.

so yes, maybe picking up knitting was a bad idea, but maybe telling saeyoung about it first was the biggest mistake he’s ever made. 

because this is how you ended up in saeran’s room--before he had finished--and gushing about how thoughtful and kind he was. he should check the messenger more. maybe if he had, he would’ve read your messages of immediately coming to visit him and saeyoung’s strings of “lololol’s.” 

it’s embarrassing. his cheeks are all red and he’s trying to hide his face from you, continue to knit as you talk to him, seated on the bed nearby (as much as you wanted to hug and kiss him, he was obviously preoccupied so you maintained your distance).

“how long have you been knitting for? you’re actually pretty good at it, from the photos saeyoung sent,” you kick your feet up onto the mattress, lying down and wrapping yourself in saeran’s blankets. he grimaces at the mention of his brother’s name, but continues to work the needles over and over again.

“about a month,” comes the slow reply. “it was supposed to be a secret, too, but it’s my fault for ever bothering to trust saeyoung with stuff like this.”

you hum, feeling quite warm and comfortable curled up on the bed like this (and it smells so nice, too). “saeyoung gets excited easily, you know that. i’m proud of you as much as he is, too. i think it’s really nice that you found something new to enjoy. and it’s a little bonus that you happen to be making something for me,” and you smile giddily at that.

saeran stops for a moment to rub at his red cheeks with a hand, shifting eyes back to see you all rolled up on his bed. “...i guess. i just wanted to surprise you, is all,” he returns to weaving the threads together. “i was feeling sentimental and wanted to do something special for you.”

“you feel sentimental all the time, saeran!” 

“oh… i’m sorry if it bothers you--”

“i didn’t mean it like that,” you quickly interject, rolling onto your side to look at him, finding turquoise eyes gazing back at you. stretching your arms out, you beckon him closer. “i think it’s adorable, really. put your needles down and gimme a hug--i can wait for the stuff.”

for as long as he’s known you, you still manage to surprise him; he was going to protest, but all it took was a simple sentence to shut down his argument and have him shuffling closer to join you on his bed. “you can read me so well,” saeran mumbles, a little red-faced, awkwardly hugging you through the rolls of blanket you’ve shrouded yourself in.

shuffling yourself out to give saeran more room to embrace you, you curl your arms about his waist, nuzzling your noses together with a soft snicker. “hey, you can read me pretty well too--i think you do it rather unconsciously though, but it’s still really sweet. you’re really sweet.”

he pouts, and settles on hiding his face in your shoulder, words unable to muster themselves in his throat. at least he can thank saeyoung for giving him an excuse to see you again, to cuddle with you like this, as you croon about whatever it was that occurred today or whatever thought that crossed your mind; saeran merely liked to listen to your voice, all silk and dandelions to his ears.

he dozes off before you could ever finish your story, and it strikes you how easy it was for the boy to fall into deep slumber in your arms. sleep never came easy to saeran, and his eyebags were absolutely atrocious, so you lose all motivation to even think about leaving the bed; you busy yourself by playing on your phone and gushing about how loveable saeran was to anyone who was on the messenger at the time (this happened to be zen, who proceeded to complain about his lack of a girlfriend whom he could not hold the way you cradled saeran).

it’s only when saeyoung slams into the room that saeran jerks awake--for saeyoung never makes a quiet appearance--to see what you two were up to with a loud, “y’all better not be doing anything naughty!!”

all the indignant fury and rage swelled in saeran’s chest that moment, leaping off the bed in a blur to chase his twin for disrupting his peaceful slumber in the security of your arms in such an unprecedented manner.


	11. early evening fallacies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really dont like how this chapter ended up but oh well. i already finished it, so i might as well upload it.
> 
> i might not update the next few days--gonna be really busy.

saeran naps in the middle of the day.

as much as he struggles with insomnia, passing out at three in the afternoon and waking up at six pm three hours later is something of the norm for him. he’s always been sleepy, that boy--it’s a deep, inner fatigue, a bone-weary kind of thing, not a “i’m tired so i’ll sleep.” no, it’s a slow turn of inner inertia that often leaves saeran sleeping wherever was comfortable enough for him to pass out.

maybe he should be worried about it--his psychologist had suggested adding a stimulant with his anti-depressants, but he’s already unsure of his medication as is. it’s a deep set guilt, and it takes constant reminders from both you and saeyoung for him to take it daily as he is supposed to.

there was the chance that it wouldn’t work, either, and saeran would just be stuck in this cycle of looping fatigue and sleepiness, always awake during long nights and asleep for most of the day.

so saeran refused, because he’d much rather stick with what’s normal for him than to ruin what little normalcy he’s scraping for. even you and saeyoung couldn’t convince him--he started to panic a little into the conversation, and you both were forced to drop the topic before he spirals into another vicious loop of panic attacks and anxieties, of guilt and shame, of everything that saeran hated about himself. it’s fucking childish, but he’s never had a control over his emotions anyways, as much as he wished he did.

and he continues to nap throughout the day, stepping in and out of consciousness. this was normal. this was fine. he could deal with it--he has been for many years.

\--

one early evening nap, he is gently shook awake.

the world comes into a slow focus, weary gold eyes blinking awake to find you sitting beside him on the couch, a hand relaxing gently over his shoulder. only a single lamp in the corner was turned on, softly illuminating the room as far as its feeble light can reach. it takes more than a moment for his eyes to recollect themselves and adjust to the light, vaguely making out your face.

“what is it?” saeran drawls quietly, rolling over onto his side--it was easier to see you instead of being curled up tight against the couch.

you smile at him, but it’s a soft, bitter smile. like the kinds you see in tv shows and movies. “saeran, you can’t keep going on like this,” you whisper, hand trailing up to tenderly caress his face, a thumb rubbing over the soft fat of his cheeks.

normally, saeran would’ve found this humiliating and pulled back from your hand--but he stills at the contact, at your words, and suddenly the world is thrown into another spiral.

“...i don’t want to talk about this again,” saeran replies, and his voice is flat and cold, and his eyes are too. he comes closing in on himself, withdrawing. inside spun a whirlwind of emotions, and as much as he wanted to spill out every single one to you, his own bitterness crawls into the cracks and sinks deep.

“saeran, you know you can’t avoid this forever. we’re all worried about you and want the best for you. please, at least give the new medication a try,” you chide, and he can hear your determination, that soft tone of concern and consideration.

“no,” and the response is quick and easy, and it doesn’t feel great because he can tell he’s hurting you but god, he’s hurting too.

you pull your hand away to rest it in your lap, gazing away into the distance--never at him. “can you at least give me a reason why?” as much as you knew him, even you cannot reach into every crevice, identify every single strand that made up the complicated web that is saeran. he knows this. you know this. it’s almost like a cat-and-mouse game, where you prod and hunt for the answers; saeran, all he’s ever known is running.

“it’s not going to work.”

“how would you know that?”

“instinct.”

“your gut can only tell you so much.”

“another person can only tell me so much.”

“saeran, please, at least listen to me, stop being so stubborn--”

“stop it!” saeran finds himself on his feet, every muscle tensed and teeth bared. “i don’t want to hear anymore! i told you i’m not interested in using some stupid medication to help me. nothing’s going to fix me, hell, i’m only taking the other meds just because you and saeyoung won’t leave me alone if i don’t.” he yanks up the sleeves of his shirt, shows you the strings of scars running up the pale skin, cutting into the tattoo up his shoulder. “don’t you see? i’m not getting better. maybe things can seem okay for a moment, but nothing’s getting better. i’m still stuck after everything.”

written across your face is nothing but shock. slowly it morphs into submission, your gaze averted from piercing gold eyes and holding your own shoulder--a withdrawal, the white flag.

“you should’ve told me when you thought of those things,” and then you finally meet his eyes, firm and resolved. “i know it’s hard, to tell people about these sorts of things. please trust me a little more. i know it’s asking a lot, but it does hurt--when you tell me these things. i want to be able to help you more, even at your worst.”

then everything hits saeran at once, and it feels like that day so many months ago--when he had the trigger in his hand, and, cornered, he… he’d done it again. all the memories come unlocked and undone, the ones he’d tried so hard to bury and smash into fragments. but no matter how much he tried to hide these things behind a thick veil of emptiness, he will always remember. always hypervigilant. always.

but instead of mustering up an apology, anything else other than just this, all he could whisper was a soft, “are you angry at me?”

you smile at him. bittersweet, but genuine, and he already knows. “a little bit. but i don’t hate you.”

he can hear it all--all those things you chose not to say. yes, he’s ill and he needs help, but you and him are only ever human beings, entangled within that emotional mortality. you’ve done so much for him, dedicated so much time to him, and this--the way he screams and yells at you--it’s not okay. no, it’s never been okay and saeran has always known that, but you know just as well that he can’t help it sometimes. so it all comes in a wave of complication and intrusions, because yes this is what it feels like to have blood on your hands and still be loved and cherished like a sublime thing of the world.

it’s not okay that he acts this way, but it’s not something he cannot work on, and it’s not something that he will excuse on the premise of his disorder. this is as much of his fault as it is yours, and you’re both not perfect and you’ve never been, and god he’s been so delusional and crazed.

saeran starts crying--he isn’t sure if it’s because he’s sad or because he’s angry and ashamed. the tears come hot and fast and he tries to rub them away with the sleeves of his shirt. “i’m sorry,” his voice cracks and, god, he is so manipulative.

you move to hug him tight, offer reassurance, but saeran pushes you away, warns you, “don’t come any closer, please… i keep hurting you. fuck, just--just don’t come close. please. it’s for your sake.”

“i don’t care if i get hurt,” you reply, soft and slowly, all at once. “because i’m not the only one who’s hurting. there is so much more to you than this, please don’t think that all you can ever do is hurt me.”

every word is shaped like an arrow and pierces through him; none miss their mark, and he’s pines for your comfort, for your love. he clutches at his heart, wishes he could tear it out--your hands rest on his and he stills, amber eyes flinging up to meet yours. 

“don’t push me away, saeran. this was never meant to be one-sided.”

and just like that he’s gone, putty in your hands. your name rips itself from his throat in a thick sob, and it falls out in, thick. your arms surround him and saeran drags you to the floor; you let him cry and howl as long as he wants. you offer no words until he’s calmed down, only ever providing all the comfort and security he needed with your arms and your hands, all until he’s reduced to a sniveling mess.

“do you know what i am afraid of?” you muse lightly, voice gently parting the silence, combing fingers through his thick hair. he says nothing, but you know he is listening. “i’m afraid of losing you… because of something i did wrong or something i could’ve done. i’m afraid of the day that i wake up and find out you’re gone, leaving me not a single word.” he could never do that to you. “so i push you to do things like this--take your meds--because i want you to get better. you’ve been doing better than you think.”

and you run your hands up his scarred arms, feel the smoothness of the scars underneath the pads of your fingers. “it’s been awhile since you’ve last hurt yourself,” you continue, a little hesitant, but firm regardless. “and you’ve opened up a lot more to the others. you even play around with saeyoung. you’re not as aggressive as you think you are.” you grab a hold of his hand, rest it upon your cheek. he finally looks at you, then, and you muster the best smile you could. “i know that you never mean to hurt anyone. you’re scared, and i am too… but i trust you enough to do these things for you.”

speechlessness. is this what it felt like, to have your breath stolen away so suddenly and so completely? but for all it’s suffocating, it’s... not half bad to be rendered so vulnerable like this. “i’ve always been worried,” and his words come out in slow drawls, his voice barely above a whisper (for he feared that if he spoke any louder, the tranquility would shatter with that simple knock). “that i’m a burden to you and saeyoung both. to everyone else in the rfa. and i’ve always thought it was pathetic that i have to rely on medication, when that’s what i used to do when i was a part of mint eye.”

he pauses to reel himself back from the past--you hold his hands and squeeze gently, and he focuses on your warmth.

“i’m just scared of becoming that person again. the one who almost murdered you all and the one who stole v away from everyone. i’m scared, and i don’t know what to do if even medication can’t help me,” and oh, he must have sounded like a little child, all incoherent and dazed. “i still don’t know what to do now.”

holding his cheeks, you pull him close to press your foreheads together--he is all cold and starry-eyed, for he can count the constellations in your eyes. “we’re all here for you, saeran. it’s not just me, or saeyoung, but it’s also jumin and yoosung and jaehee and zen. it’s okay if you don’t know what to do. and it’s okay to be scared, because everyone gets scared. but you have to keep on fighting--you have been for as long as you’ve been living, and i’m so proud that you got this far. you are not alone, and you never will be.”

then it comes again, all airless and it’s almost like floating, suspension--saeran clings to you and kisses you, all passion and want and desire, because you’re here and you aren’t going anywhere and, oh god, he has to be sure of that, be so absolutely sure that it will leave him blank. 

“i’ll do it,” he murmurs, kisses up the side of your jaw. “i’ll try the medication.”

you laugh, and it comes in a rush of hot air, distended euphoria. “i’m glad,” you breathe, sharp, and then his teeth lightly closes around the nape of your neck and you pull lightly at his hair.

saeran makes the faintest noise, and lets his hands wander over you--you only voice protest for getting frisky in the living room of all places, so saeran pulls you to his room and kisses you all over.

when he gives you a little bit of leeway, you gently nibble along the side of his neck as well--a whimper is dragged out from him and he pins down your hands, locks eyes with you. 

“i love you,” saeran whispers, and he kisses you all over again, whispering out sweet little “i love you’s” all over every inch of your body.


	12. //scrapped chapters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been awhile since i updated and i apologize for that. but ive been really, really busy with school--its my senior year and im getting ready for college and handling a senior project on top of ap classes and it doesnt give me a lot of time to write because im too exhausted after homework to even think about it. i dont know when i'll start updating again, but it wont be for awhile. if im lucky, and next term isnt so bad (since ap gov is leagues easier than ap lit) i might start updating again
> 
> but for now, here are some chapters than never really made the cut.

12.  
forgiveness doesn’t come all at once--no, it’s a constant process, of reminders and bitter memories. forgiveness comes in fragments, like the shells that the ocean spits out onto the shore. but if you stepped first into the ocean, you would be walking on countless of little seashells, all waiting for their turn to be washed ashore and picked up all over again.

sometimes the waters claim back these shells, and sometimes it leaves behind litters of these hollowed homes, all sputtering and wet, but on land regardless, seeing sun without that watery blue filter.

trust is a lot like this, too, because the only things that ever come all at once are the ocean giants, monsters of the deep, wrung out far from their homes.

it’s a curse--the tide of the ocean and the shells that it picks up are all determined by the oceans themselves. nothing controls the ocean. if you take that to a more emotional level, it’s very much like how saeran views saeyoung. all the faded memories of the past are mere blots, behind the shadowed veil that’s been thrown over during his stay at mint eye. it’s hard to recall what they--what rika--did to him, but sometimes he jerks awake after seeing needles in his dreams, a flash of silver and screaming (and he realizes it was his own). 

given all the time in the world, saeran believes he won’t ever be able to completely trust anybody again. that fear of abandonment is something instinctual that he can’t ever hope to manage--no, it’s his own ocean and his own fight with the ravenous waters.

saeyoung is patient--always overtly so. it’s that twin connection; maybe it’s a little cheesy, but they too were once one, and sometimes saeran can feel it lingering within him (and he thought his chest was hollowed out and packed full of lies and sandpaper). but saeyoung is calm when he needs to be, fetches you when he realizes that sometimes, there isn’t a lot he could do to help his twin. saeran isn’t sure how he knows this, but it’s that gut feeling, that instinct.

they were brothers, before everything else, and the water of the womb can hold as much weight as the blood of the covenant.

\--

it was you who had suggested that he and saeyoung cook together. you called it a trust-building exercise. saeran’s pretty sure that if you had called for a trust fall exercise instead, he would let saeyoung fall hard into the ground. no hard feelings (haha).

for as much junk food saeyoung inhales on a daily basis, he could cook a variety of dishes. and under your wing, saeran had learned quite his fair share of knowledge, but it’s nothing as vast as saeyoung’s (saeyoung later admitted that he watched, read and analyzed everything there is to know about the culinary arts. he also said it was to impress saeran specifically).  
regardless, saeran thinks it’s kind of stupid. he could make breakfast on his own, take care of his own stomach, but you had absolutely insisted that they cook something for you three to enjoy. hence, preparing all the ingredients for the classic korean breakfast--fresh rice, some soup, and a few sides of banchan. it’s nothing fancy at all, and saeran wouldn’t have minded as much as he did when it came to cooking with his brother, but saeyoung wore the most obnoxiously yellow apron that screamed, “hot stuff is coming through!” and the boy loved to sing. it wasn’t a mumble of lyrics underneath the breath, no, saeyoung sang like a goddamn fire truck and popped in some fancy footwork or whatever it was he was doing.

you see, saeyoung was a decent singer, but early in the morning like this, saeran found it grating to the ears. whether saeyoung was doing this intentionally or not was left to the wind, because even saeran can’t be sure what he was thinking about as he twirls his way through the kitchen, cleaning vegetables and cutting up the meat. on better days, saeran would be inclined to join in on the merrymaking--he was not opposed to his own share of fun, after all, but he spent all of last night drifting in and out of sleep thanks to saeyoung’s aggressive gaming session with yoosung, even with a dosage of sleep medicine.

much of it consisted of him hearing loud, boisterous laughter and all the various ways saeyoung told yoosung that he sucked. maybe he should go bang pots around when saeyoung was sleeping instead of attempting to ruin the breakfast they were making, but saeran’s always been a vengeful person, and revenge usually can not wait.

so when saeyoung asked him, “hey, can you cut the rest of the veggies? i gotta cook the meat,” saeran did as he was told, albeit as aggressively and ravenously as he could. 

he slammed the knife into the cutting board with each chop, making sure to keep staring straight at saeyoung; who seemingly didn’t notice, too caught up in his vocals, until he spun around and sees all the deep grooves in the cutting board and saeran’s wicked scowl.

“like this, saeyoung?” he chimes as innocently as he could, smiling wide and eerily. 

“eh? no, no, no, you gotta cut it like this--” and saeyoung practically kicks him out of the way, easily slicing through the vegetables. “and you gotta hold it like this, too, not in a fist. it’s like a cat paw,” he holds up his hand, fingers curled in. “you know, like, nya--”

“stop that,” saeran interjects, giving a hearty slap to his twin’s head and snatching the knife back. “i know what i’m doing.”

saeyoung only winks and sticks out his tongue, seemingly unfazed, and goes back to loudly auditioning for an imaginary show over the stove.

\--

you really shouldn’t have to feel like you’re babysitting two children, but it’s so hard to not feel like it. especially when you run into the kitchen after hearing saeyoung’s blood curling scream and find saeran practically dangling his twin’s head above the open stove--saeyoung is spitting out apologies for seemingly spilling a whole load of korean barbeque sauce over saeran, and when you look, half of his face and much of his upper torso is covered with the sauce, thick and honey brown, and it’s even in his hair.

“get! in! the! fire!” saeran hisses, and saeyoung squirms, screeching out a pathetic,

“nooooo!! saeran be merciful like our lord and savior--”

“hey!” you call out, and the two freeze, two pairs of eyes falling on you. “what do you two think you’re doing?”

saeran drops saeyoung hard, who crumples to the floor with a cry of pain and, “saeran you’re so mean to meee--”

“...sorry,” saeran mutters, flicking off the stove. he had been doing pretty well on managing his anger--although you can’t be quite sure why such a little offense (with hardly any emotional charge behind it either that could potentially trigger such a violent outburst) would have him trying to murder his twin. but it’s something you have to ask him, and you do.

“saeran, what happened? why are you so angry over this?” you walk over to help saeyoung up, who practically clings to you like a child.

“saeyoung was being a little bitch and he needed to be taught a lesson--”

“you know i didn’t mean to keep you up last night, or drench you completely in sauce,” saeyoung interjects, and you feel like you’re their babysitter. 

“yeah yeah, and you didn’t mean to leave me with our abusive mother,” saeran mocks, folding his arms and turning his gaze away.

“i thought we talked about that already!”

“doesn’t make me feel any better about it though.”

“saeran--”

you step in before things have a chance to escalate, making sure to keep the two separated. “hey, hey, you guys, no arguing--we are not children. we will discuss things like the civil adults that we are, and no one’s going to be fighting anyone, okay? this is a calm discussion, and i want you two to start getting along better and manage your conflicts more wisely. is that clear?”  
“yes, sir!” saeyoung salutes. saeran gives a little shrug, and that’s the closest to a “yes” you’re going to get out of him.

breakfast can wait--you’re feeling rather lazy today and would much prefer not to finish up their mess, but if you left them as they were, you’re pretty sure saeyoung is going to catch on fire sooner or later. hence why you have saeyoung and saeran seated on opposite ends of the table, with you as the mediator (you kind of felt like a drug lord negotiating a deal).

scrapped  
13.  
yesterday starts out a slow blur when he opens his eyes. the world is recognized as hazy, an amorphous thing, warping through the light that crawls in from the blinds. groggy, saeran stretches his arms out in front of him, yawning with mouth wide and a low deep inhale of air and--he feels heavier, than usual, and wonders if he’s actually been putting on weight (you and saeyoung don’t push him to eat often; he’s far too lanky, after all). 

the thought is eradicated when he realizes that no, he hasn’t been gaining weight, but there is weight draped about him, something tickling the back of his neck and a warmth pressed up behind him.

and--oh.

last night comes rushing back to greet him with a slap in the face, because it was you spooning him, your face pressed up against his neck. then it’s another slap in the face when he realizes that you’re both naked, because you never stay the night, much less after that (saeran pushes you to go home afterwards, partly because there is that crippling guilt of succumbing to his innate desires yet again and partly because he’d rather not have you miss your work, but it’s a poor excuse anyways).

he slaps his hands over his face in indignation. carnality is not a trait you’d give to someone like saeran, but ultimately he, too, is made of flesh and has ever only desired yours. he doesn’t ask you for these types of favors; no, saeran doesn’t really ask anything much of you when it comes to sex. it’s almost repulsive for him to even imagine it, sweaty bodies pressed together, the sound of lips and teeth and the squelching of flesh, the plethora of noises and--he’s grossing himself out just by thinking of it, and cuts his train of thoughts short by gently unhooking your arms from his chest.

you make a low noise of disappointment, even when locked in your dreamworld. saeran pays this no mind, rolls over to face you with your disheveled hair and the light that combs itself through the messy strands.

last night… yes, yesterday--he remembers clearly, now. it was another one of those nights, those late night thoughts that pervaded his mind. he had come crying to you on the phone again, begging you to come over, to stop him from doing whatever stupid thing he was going to do in the throes of fear and anxiety. and you had, and you held him and comforted him and told him what he wanted to hear. saeran asks you for reaffirmation, and then he kisses you hard because he needed a deeper intimacy, something more than just wishful words and idle chatter and--

maybe he’s being too needy, too clingy. it’s always why he kicked you from his bed afterwards, with one excuse or another, but you never really protested anyways. maybe you knew? saeran couldn’t dare to ask you that. 

he’s never really seen you sleep before. much of the contributing factor is saeran always falls asleep first, and by the time he wakes, you’re already up (sometimes you’re gone, but most of the time you stay and play on your phone). so seeing you up close like this, eyes closed and lashes framing the slopes of your cheeks, the soft rise and dip of your chest as you exhale and inhale, all a quiet rush of air in, out, in, out, over again in that same calming pattern. the sun combs its way through your hair, and when saeran does let his eyes wander, he sees the faint marks of his lips over the sides of your neck that gradually fades down your chest.

he forces his eyes back up because it’s rude to stare at your naked body.

“hey,” saeran calls, shaking you awake by the shoulder. “hey, wake up.” he sees your eyes twitch, but they don’t open--you’ve already returned from consciousness, but you just refuse to open your eyes. so he shakes you again, firmer, this time, and calls your name.

this time, your eyes do open, blinking wearily.

then your eyes fling open when you realize the same thing saeran did just minutes prior. “oh, saeran, what--” you lunge forward to sit up, grabbing at your own flesh--he presses his hand over his eyes. 

“can you please put on some clothes,” he utters, rolling away from you. 

scrapped

 

14.  
it occurs to saeran that he never really talks to anyone but you and saeyoung. maybe it’s just an unconscious thing; a trait that he would’ve possessed regardless of what his childhood and teenage years were like. some people are born shy, some are born bold and brave, others born meek, all born a variety of different characteristics that could be altered, but never erased. so maybe his withdrawn personality is just a trait of that, but saeran doesn’t recall much from his early toddler years (it’s half because he was too young, and half because he’d rather not remember at all. this was the same with his later adulthood. he cannot ever recall shooting v or saeyoung defending him in the midst of laborious pain, or the things rika would tell him and feed him through a syringe. he only knows because others have told him so, and so it must be).

you have encouraged saeran to talk more to the other rfa members. “you might get along well with yoosung,” you told him once. “he’s very excitable and it can rub off on you. you should try talking to him sometime.”

“you should talk to jaehee. i think we all mean it when we say she feels like a mother to us. she’s usually the one people rely on the most, and she still knows how to have her fun too.”

“talking to zen consists of his narcissism, but i can tell you that he is very caring and affectionate towards the others in the group--sans jumin, of course, but that’s a thing he has to sort out on his own. i think he considers you as a little brother, saeran.”

“jumin is a pragmatist, which might suit with your views a little better. it can be difficult talking to him, but he does relax a lot when he is in the messenger, even with zen around. it’s actually fun watching those two bicker, like two older brothers.”

you mean well. of course you do--you and saeyoung both, considering his ever fluctuating mental stability. but it takes more than a little encouragement from others, because saeran still has his own fix of emotions to sort with. there will always be a limit to what others can do for him, because it is ultimately saeran’s choice on how he chose to handle his life and his conversations. so, yes, as guilty as he feels for ever daring to harm you and everyone else, he can only run away from the ghosts for so long before they do come and haunt him forever like frost on glass in winter’s morning.

picking up his phone, saeran opens up the messenger, a tap of his thumb on the cool glass of his phone (how long has it been since he last used his phone?)

You: I’ve been thinking of learning how to make candy for awhile now, actually.

You: Learning new things to bake is fun, but I also happen to be partial to Saeran’s interests~

Jaehee Kang: Yes, we all know you’re quite fond of him ^^

 

Jaehee Kang: How is he doing, by the way?

[Saeran has entered the chatroom.]

You: Pretty well, actually! He’s been more responsive to taking his medication, so Saeyoung and I don’t have to worry as much.

Jaehee Kang: Ah, Saeran, you’re here. Have you eaten?

 

You: Saeran! 

 

Saeran: Hello.

Saeran: I haven’t, but I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.

You: Saeran, you are following the schedule Saeyoung and I set up for you, right?

Saeran: Yeah, I am.

Jaehee Kang: You and Saeyoung act like concerned parents.

Jaehee Kang: Sans the fact that you and Saeran are a couple, anyways.

You: Sometimes I feel like I’m caring for the twins instead, but it’s nothing I don’t enjoy.

Saeran: You care too much, we’re both adults.

Jaehee Kang: If they weren’t doing it, I would be. I wouldn’t want you to end up like Yoosung or your brother in regards to lifestyle and eating habits.

You: Yeah, see! Everyone just wants you to start getting better soon~

Saeran: I guess…

Jaehee Kang: It was nice chatting with you two, but I’m afraid I must go. I have some calls to make.

Jaehee Kang: Oh, and Saeran… It was nice seeing you in the messenger today ^^

Jaehee Kang: I’ll be on my way.

[Jaehee Kang has left the chatroom.]

You: I hope things aren’t too hard for Jaehee today;;

You: Saeran, I’m really glad you came into the chat! Are you going to be showing up more often? I’m sure the others will enjoy talking to you~

Saeran: Yeah, I’m going to try… 

You: Ah, I’m so proud of you! I’m sure if Saeyoung were online, he’d be just as proud : )

[Saeyoung has entered the chatroom.]

Saeyoung: Have I been summoned by a great and powerful sorceror?!?!

You: Welcome, dark lord Saeyoung!

Saeyoung: Oh, Saeran!!! ur here! I thought u would be knitting

Saeran: I’m not going to fix that hat for you.

Saeyoung: Why not : (

Saeran: No.

You: Still bullying Saeran about that? It’s been a month;;

Saeyoung: It’s not bullying if he’s ur brother

Saeyoung: I just want to cherish the greatest gift my little bro gave to me...that finely crafted beanie, made so lovingly~

Saeran: You don’t know who was born first, idiot.

Saeyoung: Still can’t prove me wrong tho

Saeran: You can’t prove it to be right.

Saeyoung: lololol

 

Saeyoung: Ur rite

Saeyoung: But I am too

Saeran: Whatever.

 

[Saeran has left the chatroom.]

Saeyoung: Bro, noo, forgive meeee!

Saeyoung: He’s gone : (

You: Are you going to go bother him in person now?

Saeyoung: U know me so well~ 

Saeyoung: Don’t tell Saeran this, but last night I heard him calling ur name in his sleep. 

Saeyoung: He misses u like a little lost puppy

You: He’s adorable ^^ He’s more like a cat though, don’t you think?

Saeyoung: Omg...maybe. 

Saeyoung: u should come see him soon tho. He probably wants kisses~~ from his one and only~~~ 

You: Hey now,

You: You know he always wants kisses.

Saeyoung: wow!

Saeyoung: My little bro is so cute!!! So clingy!!!!

Saeyoung: I’m gonna go tease him now

 

You: Don’t be too rough;;

Saeyoung: Nah, I won’t~ See you!

You: Make sure Saeran doesn’t skin you!

Saeyoung: ya

[Saeyoung has left the chatroom.]

saeran leaves feeling a little light-hearted; whether it’s a sign of anxiety or happiness, he doesn’t know, and he can hardly tell the difference if it’s so miniscule in particular. but--conversing with at least one other member of the rfa was pleasant enough that it made him consider truly being more active in the messenger. yes, he hasn’t really been keeping up with the others lately, hasn’t he? you and saeyoung are the ones who keep him in the loop of things, after all, but getting information secondhand is something, he decides, that he doesn’t like to do in particular.

in the midst of his thoughts, saeran sprawls himself out over his bed, staring away into that dull smoky gray expanse of a ceiling.


End file.
